


Ivy

by somerandom



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Abuse of trust, Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Background Het, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Controlling Behavior, Dark, De-Aged Abel, Depression, Drug Dealing, Exposition, Inappropriate Behavior, Jealousy, M/M, Moment in time, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Secret Crush, Stalking, Substance Abuse, Terminal Illnesses, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Time Skips, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, implied brain injury, non-con kissing, toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerandom/pseuds/somerandom
Summary: Ethan is a straight-A student from a good family, the right part of town. Sacha is a drug-dealing criminal from the wrong side of the tracks in every way that counts. Together, they're a thousand mistakes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read all tags and relevant archive warnings before continuing. I have tried to be as thorough as possible with content labels. I cannot be held responsible for any disturbing or triggering content you may encounter here if you choose to ignore the tags and warnings.
> 
> I am aware Cain now has a canon name. I am opting not to use it here.
> 
> Thank you, Mysh, for listening, offering advice, and looking over this for me. If I stare at it any longer, though, I'll never post it so HERE GOES.

Ethan stopped in the middle of the living room and looked up at the dusty lamp hanging from a cord on the ceiling. The fitting was filthy, looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months, just like everything else in the flat. Water spots bloomed all over the yellowing wallpapers and the air reeked of stale cigarette smoke. He wrinkled his nose.

“Um, so how have you been?” he called out.

Unsurprisingly, Sacha didn't answer. He wasn't one for small talk. Ethan heard him rummaging around in the other room; probably looking for the right pills. Ethan hoped he took his sweet time.

He looked around for somewhere to sit. The two battered-looking navy blue lounges were covered in unfolded laundry, half-full ashtrays and an assortment of newspapers. Hoping it wouldn't make Sacha too mad, Ethan shifted some things around, carved himself out a small spot and took a seat. He placed his hands in his lap and fidgeted nervously while he waited for Sacha to return.

He'd been here already twice this week. He wondered if Sacha was growing suspicious, if he somehow knew. Ethan thought he was probably being ridiculous – because how _could_ he know? Ethan didn't think he'd ever given Sacha a reason to suspect him, apart from being too frequent of a visitor – but he couldn't help feeling on edge all the same. The consequences of being found out would be disastrous.

It didn't help when Sacha came out wearing nothing but his shorts. Ethan tried not to look him in the eye. He was cursed with fair skin and prone to blushing; if it became too obvious, he'd have to cut his losses and get out of here, which was the last thing he wanted.

“There,” Sacha grunted, tossing something onto the coffee table. He stretched and added, “You should take it easy on that stuff, kid. It can fuck you up if you do too much.”

“Oh.” Ethan searched for a believable lie. “Well it's not for me this time, it's uh... for a friend.” He realized how stupid it sounded the minute it was out of his mouth and he knew Sacha would never buy it.

“Tch. You're a shit liar.” Sacha plopped down next to him, right on top of a small pile of underwear and socks, so close their legs were almost brushing.

Ethan tried hard to maintain his composure. It was difficult when all he wanted was to lean in closer, for Sacha to take him in his arms, pick him up, throw him down on the couch and--

“You know, you don't look like a junkie. You want to keep it that way, huh?” Sacha had put his feet up now and was rolling a cigarette, gaze fixed on the television set. Ethan nodded, but took this moment while Sacha was distracted to stare at him without fear of being caught out. He was still the most beautiful human being Ethan had ever seen in his life.

He knew his sweet mother would have a fit if she knew Ethan was here in this part of town with some tatted-up, drug-dealing, way-too-old-for-him gangster, and not at a friend's house studying for his exams like he'd promised her. But the guilt was worth it to be here, with someone like Sacha and not all alone with his thoughts.

Sacha brought the cigarette to his lips and lit it quickly, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. The smell didn't even bother Ethan anymore; he'd grown accustomed to it. Maybe even kind of liked it now.

“You watch this show?” Sacha asked, gesturing to the television.

Ethan glanced quickly at the set; he had no idea what was on right now. He'd been too busy gazing longingly at Sacha's arms and hands, daydreaming about how they'd feel wrapped around him, pressing into his skin.

“Uh, it's _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_ , right? No, not really. I think my sister likes it, though.” Ethan took a deep breath and continued, “Didn't really pick you as the Kardashian type, though, to be honest.”

Sacha actually laughed, and Ethan felt a tiny swell of pride for making that sound come out of him.

“They're hot,” Sacha explained with a shrug. “And it's free.”

“Yeah, of course.”

The front door burst open and Ethan jumped in his seat. A tall girl with black hair and red lips burst in, her arms weighed down by shopping bags. She was new. Ethan hadn't seen her here before.

“A little help here, Sash?”

Sacha failed to get up off his ass and so Ethan pushed himself to his feet and rushed over to help her instead. “Here, let me help” he said, taking three or four bags off her hands.

“Thanks,” she said, a little breathlessly as they both staggered into the kitchen. Ethan hefted the bags of groceries up onto the bench and tried to resist the urge to march on over to the sink, roll up his sleeves and wash all the dirty dishes, wipe down the grotty benches.

“I know,” the girl said, like she knew exactly what she was thinking, “it's so gross in here. He's such a boy. I honestly don't understand how he lives like this. I hardly want to touch anything. Ugh.” She shuddered, then laughed. “What's your name?”

“Ethan.”

“I'm Anna.”

Ethan tried to smile back and must have looked awkward, or shy, because Anna laughed and stepped forward to squeeze his shoulder.

“You're adorable, and thank you for actually helping me, you're so sweet. How do you know Sash?”

“Oh.” Ethan didn't have an answer for this one. “We just... We're just kind of friends.”

“Kind of friends?”

Ethan nodded. Anna didn't look convinced, and Ethan reasoned she likely knew what Sacha did for a living and therefore what Ethan was most likely doing here.

“You're not the um...” Anna trailed off, searching for the right word-- “ _type_ of friend Sacha usually hangs out with. Sacha doesn't even have friends. All his friends are wankers. And you're just a baby, right? What the hell are doing hanging out with him?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper here, so Sacha couldn't hear what they were saying. “You seem sweet. He's bad news for someone like you.”

Ethan burst out a laugh, not meaning to. “I don't know about that.” He shrugged, all of a sudden feeling somewhat irrationally protective of Sacha. “He's not so bad. He talks to me, and he doesn't tell me to go home. He's nice to me. Well, most of the time he is.”

“Really?” Anna looked like she was having a difficult time believing this.

“How do you know him?” Ethan asked, changing the subject.

Anna let out a long sigh. “That's complicated. We've known each other a few years but we're kind of off and on. Mostly off for obvious reasons.”

Ethan followed her out to the living room, where she was hanging up her coat by the door. She looked over her shoulder at him and said, “It's getting super late. Shouldn't you be getting home to your parents?” If she didn't sound so genuine about it, Ethan might have been annoyed at her.

But he understood. Sacha had a girlfriend now, apparently. She wanted to be alone with him. Ethan was getting in the way, sucking up time that wasn't his to take.

Sacha, though, appeared to be ignoring the entire interaction, eyes still glued to the television. But then he said, “Yeah, isn't it a little past your bedtime, _mal'chik_?” and Ethan knew he'd heard the entire exchange. He cringed, and he wasn't even sure what Sacha had just called him. He doubted it was anything good.

“Yeah, I should probably get going.” He snatched the small baggie off the coffee table and shoved it deep inside his pocket, hoping Anna wouldn't see it and make too many assumptions about him. “I'll see you two later,” he said quickly, making a break for the door. Anna stopped him.

“Wait, it's pretty late and this area isn't... It's not so good, for someone like you.”

There it was again. _Someone like you_.

Sacha must have noticed his confusion here because he explained, bluntly, “You know. Pretty boy. Rich. Blond. Real nice shoes. She's right, it's no good for someone like you. Heh, not unless you want to get robbed, then fucked and dumped in a ditch somewhere once he's through with your ass.”

“Sacha!” Anna exclaimed, looking horrified. “Don't say things like that. He's just a kid.”

“It's true, though. You know it.”

Ethan bit his lip. “I have to go home now.” He felt small and stupid with these two looking at him like he was a helpless child. But that's exactly how Sacha saw him, he reminded himself. That was never going to change.

Anna glared at Sacha. “Why don't you drive him, huh? Get off your ass for a change, you've been home all day.”

“Why don't you mind your business,” Sacha returned, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

Anna seemed unfazed by his rudeness, and if he were honest Ethan wasn't exactly shocked either. He'd known Sacha a few months now – in a mostly business kind of way, but close enough to have observed the way he treated the numerous women in his life, and it wasn't great.

Sacha's apartment had a revolving door, and none of the girls Ethan had ever met seemed to have earned the title of 'girlfriend' just yet. Sometimes that made it easier for Ethan not to lose himself in a bottomless pit of toxic jealousy. But only sometimes. And this seemed different. None of the girls Ethan had come across here had ever talked to Sacha as matter-of-factly as Anna was talking to him.

“I'll drive if I can take your car,” Anna said to Sacha. “It's not safe out right now and besides, it's fucking freezing out there. Don't be a prick – you want to have cute little kid friends who'll sit around with you all day and laugh at your jokes and tell you how awesome you are, then you better take care of them when they're with you.”

“It's fine, really. I've done it before, loads of times,” Ethan chimed in. He felt terrible for Sacha, guilty if he was getting yelled at because of him.

“No.” Sacha stood up, stretched and groaned. “You,” he said, looking directly at Ethan now, pointing. “Get your shit together, let's go,” Sacha ordered.

“But--”

“Do I look like I'm fucking asking?”

“Go on, Ethan,” Anna said.

Ethan shut his mouth and did as he was told. He waved weakly at Anna and she smiled back.

“Hope I catch you next time. Thanks for before.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Ethan replied, one hand on the door.

He forced a smile at her and pushed it open. A freezing blast of air hit him full in the face. He held the door open for Sacha, who thundered past a moment later having quickly dressed.

“C'mon.”

Ethan followed him to his car, a red pickup he'd memorized a thousand times over, just in case he ever saw it while he was out.

Sacha got in first, then leaned over and unlocked the door for Ethan. It was freezing inside. Ethan could feel the icy leather even through his clothes.

“I'm--”

“Yeah, I'll turn the heater on,” Sacha muttered. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. The air blowing through the vents was still glacial. Ethan shivered.

“No, that's not-- I was just going to say, I'm really, really sorry.”

“For?”

The engine shuddered as they reversed out of the driveway. Ethan's father had always taught him to let the engine warm-up in cold weather or else you'd risk damaging it. He guessed Sacha was impatient to get this over with, to get back to Anna, or else he just didn't care.

“For getting you into trouble. For making you drive me home,” Ethan rambled. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come so late; I just had to get the stuff before tomorrow.”

“For a friend.”

“Right.”

“Tch. You say sorry a lot, you know,” Sacha said, after a pause. “And you think I'm in trouble, with her? Nah. You can't make me do nothin', either. Isn't right to let you wander around here on your own, anyway. We weren't lying before – plenty of sadistic fucks 'round here wouldn't mind sinking their claws into you if they saw you walkin' alone at night. You stick out like dog's nuts, no offense.”

“Right. I know. I'm sorry.” He made a face. “And... for apologizing. Again.” His ears were burning. He was grateful right now for the dark.

Sacha rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with one hand on the wheel as they pulled out onto the main road. The car was starting to warm up, but Ethan was still trembling. He'd never been this close to Sacha before. In this car, all alone, it was difficult not to wish for a whole host of possible scenarios.

“How old are you, anyway? I mean really. Don't lie and tell me you're eighteen. I know you're not.”

“Oh,” Ethan scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his scarf, his heart racing, “I'm s-seventeen.” He glanced over at Sacha, who raised an eyebrow.

“Seventeen?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Sure you are. You're still in school, then?”

“Yep.”

“A good one?”

“I guess.”

"You got you some rich parents, huh? Must be nice.”

“I guess so,” Ethan admitted. “Not having to worry about about money is nice – I mean, I try not to take it for granted or anything; I know how lucky I am – but they're not perfect. We're not perfect. Nothing is.”

Sacha blew a stream of smoke in Ethan's direction. “Heh. Well, I know _you're_ not perfect,” Sacha said, and Ethan could hear the smirk in his voice. “Why else would you keep turning up at my house, looking for a buzz? You should cut that shit out, you know. You got your whole life ahead of you. Go to college. Get a nice job. Do something good with your fucking life while you've still got everything going for you. ”

“No offense, but don't you kind of make a living off of people like me and our problems?” The last thing Ethan had expected from Sacha was a lecture.

“Well I guess you got me there.”

They'd turned onto Ethan's street now – a row of pristine houses, white-picket fences, shiny cars parked in driveways, perfectly straight streetlamps and immaculately pruned hedges.

“Which one?” Sacha demanded.

“Oh, this one, right up here with the black Audi.”

Sacha whistled low. “Damn, this is a nice place. Your old man's car, huh?”

“Um, one of them, yeah,” Ethan confirmed as they pulled up outside. He was disappointed they'd finally arrived; the night was over. Sacha would go home to Anna, or whoever else was going to share his bed that night, and Ethan would be left counting down the hours until he could find an excuse to make another appearance at Sacha's house.

“He should keep that thing garaged.”

“What? Oh, no, it's fine. At least I think so. It's insured, and there's CCTV everywhere.” Ethan unclicked his seatbelt and cleared his throat.

“Well thanks again, for everything. I promise I won't come round so late anymore, I'm really sorry you had to take me home.”

“Told you before, I didn't have to do nothin'.”

The butterflies in Ethan's stomach had stirred into a frenzy. The two of them were so close, and the night was so quiet. What he wouldn't give for Sacha to lean over, touch him, just once.

But the night had to come to an end some time, and he needed to get out of Sacha's hair before he outstayed his welcome. If he hadn't done that already, and ten times over.

He cringed whenever he thought about what Sacha must really think of him, how much worse it would be if he ever found out how Ethan felt about him.

He pushed open the door.

“Wait.” Sacha leaned over him and slammed it shut again. His cheek brushed Ethan's, and Ethan could smell his aftershave, feel the roughness of Sacha's stubble against his own skin.

His face flooded with heat. It was like the beginning of every late-night fantasy come to life.

“Listen,” Sacha began. He sighed and rested his arm over the back of Ethan's seat.

Ethan tried not to make a noise. Sacha's smell drove him crazy.

“I'm listening,” Ethan blurted, and tried to control breathing.

“I think we're going to have to, ah... You know, end our little arrangement here.”

Ethan's stomach dropped. “But... why? Is it something I said? Look, I'm really sorry about tonight, I promise it'll never happen again, but please—”

“Relax, would you. It's not about that.”

“Then what?” Ethan searched his mind and began to panic. Had he been too obvious tonight? Did Sacha _know_?

“Look, I know I probably can't stop you from doing whatever, but you seem like a real nice kid. From a good family, good part of town. And if something happens to you, you know the shit's gonna rain down all over me; it's gonna bring the cops in, people are gonna want answers, and I... I can't sell to you anymore with that kind of risk. Sorry, kid, but it's business. Doesn't mean anything more than that.”

“No, no, I get it.” Ethan's eyes began to sting. This was it – he'd probably never see Sacha again, and he couldn't even blame him – but at least Sacha didn't _know_.

“Do you smoke weed?”

“What?” Ethan blinked hard, and hoped Sacha didn't notice the state he was in.

“Weed. I can give you weed. No one's gonna give two shits about that, just not... Not the other stuff. Not from me.”

“Um, yeah, I smoke weed,” Ethan lied. He didn't smoke anything – had never even tried a cigarette before – but he could start if it meant still seeing Sacha from time to time.

“Alright, well maybe I'll see you around, then.”

“Yeah, um, thanks for everything. And again, I'm really sorry about tonight.”

“Forget it, kid.”

“I'm not a kid,” Ethan blurted, without thinking. Instantly he wished he could take it back. He knew he sounded like a brat.

Sacha snorted. “Okay, then.”

“Can I get your number?” Ethan's heart thumped painfully in his chest. He supposed tonight was the night for making stupid, rash choices.

“What for?”

“I can message you before I come over next time. You know, in case you're not home,” Ethan explained breathlessly. “It'd save me a trip, and I wouldn't want to bother you if you're busy.”

“Er, alright then.” Sacha pulled his phone from his pocket and Ethan released a tense breath. He knew he was pushing his luck, but so far he seemed to be getting away with it.

They swapped numbers and Sacha stuffed his phone back inside his pocket. “I know I don't need to tell you not to give that number to anybody else,” he warned.

“No, I know. I won't, I promise.”

“Alright.”

There was a long pause before Ethan remembered Sacha was waiting for him to leave, and that he was making things weird again.

“Okay, well, I'll um... I'll see you around.”

"Sure, kid.”

Ethan climbed out of the car and shut the door, watching from the fence as Sacha drove away.

* * *

“You smell like cigarettes,” were the first words out of his mother's mouth once he got inside.

Ethan shut the door to the refrigerator and tried to appear nonchalant. “Oh, yeah, Maia's mom took us to a cafe. A bunch of people were smoking outside, it was kind of gross.”

She scowled. “Well what the hell was she doing taking you two there? I swear to god, Ethan--”

“She didn't know, Mom. It was poetry night or something. Lots of hipsters.” Ethan was surprised by how easily the lies rolled off his tongue these days.

“Did you get any homework done?”

“Oh, yeah, heaps. I'm all caught up.”

“Well where is it? Didn't you take your backpack with you?”

She looked over his shoulder and Ethan quickly said, “I left it with Maia. Don't worry, I'll get it tomorrow morning. Where's Dad?” he asked, swiftly changing the subject.

“Working late, like always.”

“Oh.”

“Are you alright? You're looking a little pale.”

“I'm fine,” Ethan answered, dodging her outstretched hand, gripping the soda can between his numb fingers and dashing for the stairs. “Just cold and tired. I'll see you in the morning, alright? Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he heard distantly, as he reached the landing. He stopped for a minute and tried to quash the guilt that had risen in his chest.

He felt terrible for avoiding her, for leaving her alone , like everybody else seemed to. But he couldn't stay with her for any length of time without feeling like he was drowning. Her grey, tired skin; the patchy hair on her scalp when she wasn't wearing her wig; her blue, shaking hands – they were all constant reminders that she was sick; _really_ sick. That she was probably going to be gone soon, forever, and that there was nothing he could do about it.

“It's late.”

Ethan jumped and spun around. His sister, Laura. She was already dressed in pajamas, hair all over the place.

“Where were you?”

“Out. With Maia,” Ethan lied easily.

“Huh.” Laura frowned and folded her arms. “I was out earlier and I saw her in town. You weren't there.”

Ethan closed his mouth and thought hard, searching for a plausible lie.

“It's okay,” Laura said first. “You don't have to tell me anything.”

Ethan furrowed his brow, thrown off. Laura was usually all up in his business; being so understanding wasn't always like her. She looked tired, though; Ethan figured perhaps she wasn't in the mood to argue.

“I saw you outside, in the car with that man.” Her voice quavered a little, and Ethan's stomach flipped.

“That-- That was nothing,” Ethan assured her, and tried to laugh. “Jesus, don't look so worried; he's a friend of a friend, he just gave me a lift home. I hardly even know him.”

“Alright,” Laura replied. “I'm not going to tell Mom and Dad or anything, I just want you to be safe, that's all.”

“I am. Being safe, I mean.”

“I know you've been stressed lately, with Mom, and everything else that's been going on. You're okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said to appease her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Are you?”

Laura's eyes were glassy now; she looked away. “Yeah, more or less. Mom, though, she's getting worse.” She bit her lip.

Ethan swallowed his guilt. “Bad night?”

Laura nodded. “She was trying to cook dinner when I got home; her hands were shaking so bad she dropped pasta all over the kitchen. I made her stop and order take-out. It's... It's getting bad, Ethan.”

Ethan didn't want to hear anymore; he could barely face it, or himself.

“You should go up and get some sleep,” Laura said. “Really soon, though, we all need to have a talk. You, me and Dad.”

“About what? Good luck getting Dad to participate in anything that isn't work-related. You know how avoidant he is when it comes to Mom.” _About as avoidant as me_ , Ethan thought but didn't say.

“Yeah, I know, but I'm not giving him a choice. We all need to talk about Mom. It's getting to the point where I think we're going to have to hire someone to help her out around the house, with everything. She's struggling to get around, to dress herself; I even had to help her in the shower the other morning.”

“Why do we need to hire someone for that? _We_ can help her with that stuff,” Ethan snapped, but he knew it wasn't really his sister he was irritated with, but himself. He knew she was right.

“You know that's not what she wants,” Laura explained, gently. “She's too proud for that. She doesn't want Dad, or her own kids, seeing her like that and I don't blame her. If it was me, I'd want someone else, too. Would you want me, or Dad, wiping your ass if you knew you couldn't do it yourself?”

“Fine.” Ethan folded his arms. “When?”

“Dad isn't going to be around until Monday. Let's make it for four?”

Ethan nodded, and Laura squeezed his arm. “Get some sleep, yeah?” she urged. “I'll see you in the morning.”

* * *

His room was cold from being closed-up all day. Ethan shut the door anyway, put the pills away with the others Sacha had given him and flopped down on his bed. His muscles ached.

He shrugged off his jacket and burrowed under the blankets without undressing, breathing deep into his pillow. He took out his phone and opened up the contacts, staring at Sacha's name and number in the dark.

He wished, fervently, to be somebody – anybody – else. The kind of person who could send Sacha an idle text asking him what was on the TV, what he was eating for dinner, what kind of day he'd had. He wanted to know more – to know everything – about him, but what he wanted was impossible.

Sacha was never going to see him that way. Things could never be that way between them, because Ethan was just some dumb kid, and Sacha would always be worlds away from him, too far out of reach.

He'd settle for this, though. He could still see him sometimes, just under a different guise; and if the world fell apart tomorrow, he had Sacha's number, a way to reach him in desperation, even if he was to call and say nothing at all.

* * *

It was 4am the following Monday when Ethan's phone went off.

Groaning, he rolled over and searched for it in the dark, finding it wedged somewhere beneath his hip.

The brightness blinded him when he unlocked the screen. Instantly disoriented, he fumbled to turn the settings down.

An unopened message was waiting for him in his inbox, an unusual occurrence at four in the morning. No one – not even his sister, or his best friend – texted him at four in the morning. Immediately he wondered whether there something was terribly wrong.

He clicked on the message icon and his stomach flipped. Sacha.

Unsure if he was still dreaming or conscious, Ethan attempted to make sense of the jumble of words in front of him.

_**What do a burnt pizza, a frozen beer and a pregnant chick have in common?** _

“Huh?” Ethan whispered out loud. He shook his head. Perhaps Sacha had sent this to him by mistake.

Groggily, he tapped out a reply, his heart thudding in his chest.

_**???????** _

_**I don't know. You tell me.** _

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed again and Ethan's heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he was wide awake.

_**One dumbass who couldn't pull out.** _

Ethan almost choked. With trembling fingers, he quickly replied:

_**That's a terrible joke. And also pretty gross.** _

_**Virgin. Thought you'd be asleep, what with all them downers you're on.** _

_**Guess I'm used to it. What's your excuse?** _

Ethan could barely steady his fingers enough to type. He'd dreamt of this moment for months – dreamt of talking with Sacha like this, about nothing or anything, and it was actually happening, now, at four o'clock in the stupid morning.

He tried to shake himself awake but the world held firm.

 _ **Uh-huh**_ , Sacha responded a moment later. _**Business never sleeps, that's my excuse.**_

Ethan couldn't think of anything to say next. The last thing he wanted was to say something stupid and make Sacha regret ever indulging the impulse to text him. It was best to leave it there, say nothing else. If Sacha had something more to say, Ethan would be waiting.

He lay back on his pillow, eyes swimming in the darkness. He couldn't wipe the stupid grin off of his face.

All Sacha had done was send him some dumb joke, and then insulted him. At least Ethan reasoned he'd meant 'virgin' as some sort of insult to his maturity – even if it wasn't, because it happened to be accurate – but it didn't matter.

Friends teased each other, and was that what this was? Was Sacha trying to be _friends_ with him? It was too good to be true, especially given the last time they'd seen each other, where for a moment Ethan had been sure Sacha would rather he just disappeared forever.

A few minutes passed, and his phone went off again. Ethan wondered just how many times it could ding before his body stopped hammering him with adrenaline rushes.

_**Do you like cats?** _

Ethan frowned. _**Sure**_ , he sent back.

Sacha sent through a picture, taken in poor light, of a frightened-looking animal backed up against a wall.

_**???** _

_**I found it. Do you want it? You suit each other.** _

_**I don't think I'm allowed to have a cat. Can I come see it?**_ Ethan typed quickly, thinking fast.

 **Tomorrow,** Sacha replied.

Ethan let his phone drop onto his chest and let out a breath. It wasn't the best excuse, and he knew already that bringing a stray cat home was one-hundred percent out of the question, but an opportunity was an opportunity. Ethan refused to let a single one go to waste.

* * *

 

“I should probably just kill it,” Sacha announced, kicking some empty pizza boxes out of the way as he trudged barefoot across the living-room.

“The cat?” Ethan asked incredulously, following him inside. He put his backpack down beside the couch and took a seat. “You shouldn't make jokes like that, that's horrible.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Ethan frowned, watching the muscles move in Sacha's back as he leaned over the kitchen sink, noisily digging through a small mountain of dirty dishes in search of a glass.

Ethan wasn't sure he wanted to drink out of anything that had been in that sink, but Sacha had never really offered him a drink before. He wasn't about to crap all over a good thing by being a bad sport about it.

“Where is it?” he asked, glancing around the flat as Sacha turned on the faucet.

“Fucked if I know,” he muttered. “Probably hiding out under my bed or something. Sure she'll come out sooner or later if you wait long enough. Stupid thing took a dump all over the kitchen floor this morning.” He padded over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine, filling up two smudged-looking glasses to halfway.

Ethan had been sneaking sips of his parents' wine here and there since the age of twelve and had already developed something of a taste for it, but somehow he doubted Sacha was drinking a decent vintage.

“Thanks,” he said, as Sacha handed him the glass and sat down beside him. The smell of it was cheap, overpowering.

“Heh, that's why I like you, kid. You got manners,” Sacha remarked.

Ethan smiled and forced himself to take a little sip; the wine burned his throat slightly and he set the glass down on the table.

Sacha downed the majority of his in one go, and set his glass down next to Ethan's before digging around in a grotty bowl full of green tobacco and rolling a cigarette. Ethan wondered how much he'd had to drink already that day.

It was oddly surreal, now that he was here. He'd been thinking about this all day, praying the seconds away, sitting through that farce of a “family meeting” until he couldn't bear another second of it, of them.

His eyes still stung from crying; his feet ached from trudging all that way in the snow, but it was worth it, because he was here, and Sacha was next to him. They were alone again.

“Cat!” Sacha called out, and Ethan jumped in his skin.

Sacha stared at him and snickered before his expression subtly shifted. “What's up with you, anyway?”

“Me? Nothing – why?”

“You look--” Sacha gestured vaguely at his own face-- “I don't know, red. You been cryin' or something?”

“No,” Ethan lied. “Just the cold, and the wind. Should have worn another scarf, I guess.”

Sacha's stare lingered over him a few seconds before he shrugged and looked away.

“You want one?” He offered Ethan the finished cigarette.

“No thanks, I don't smoke.”

“Thought you said you smoked weed.”

“Oh! Right. Um, yeah, sure.”

Sacha lit it with a skull-shaped lighter that looked like it had been carved out of bone, and passed it to Ethan.

Ethan knew he'd made a serious mistake the second the smoke hit his throat. He spluttered, violently, and clutched his throat – it felt as if his lungs were on fire and trying to force their way up through his neck.

“Christ,” he croaked. His eyes were streaming.

“Take it easy, kid,” Sacha muttered, touching his shoulder, and the pain was almost worth it just for that.

Ethan nodded and Sacha added, “Just take it slow. A little at a time. Like this.” He took the cigarette from Ethan's fingers and placed it between his own lips, drawing in just a little so that the tip glowed momentarily.

Ethan watched Sacha's mouth, mesmerized. He was already beginning to feel warm, lightheaded.

Sacha blew the smoke into his face and Ethan coughed, again.

“Can I try again?”

Sacha passed him the smoke and watched him take in an embarrassingly tiny little drag.

“Better?”

“Mm-hm.” Ethan tried for one more, a little deeper this time, and passed the joint back to Sacha, who sniggered.

“Not used to spliff, huh? Should have just said so.”

“No, I am,” Ethan protested, voice raw. “It's just been a while, that's all.” The last thing he needed was for Sacha to find out that this was all some sham; that Ethan would say or do literally anything as an excuse to get his foot back through that door.

“Whatever you say, kid.” Sacha leaned back into the couch and Ethan mirrored him; it felt like falling into a cloud.

He was beginning to feel slightly removed from his own body; the pain in his chest, the guilt he'd been running from all day, the ache behind his eyes – everything was fading, only to be replaced with a shallow kind of peace.

The figures moving on the television across the room were blurry; Ethan couldn't make sense of who they were, what they were doing or saying. He found himself looking at Sacha again instead. Seconds felt like hours.

“What?” Sacha met his gaze, and Ethan swallowed hard.

“Nothing, um...” He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words, not quickly enough. “I--” and _finally_ \-- “I was just looking at your tattoos,” he explained, a half-truth. “You've got so many. Do they mean anything?”

Sacha snorted, like this was a stupid question. “They're _frak s ordenami_. They all mean something. You get them inside,” he explained further, before Ethan could ask, “so you've gotta earn 'em. A real man doesn't just tattoo anything on his body; they're there to serve a purpose – to show everybody else who you are, what you've done.” He let out a short laugh. “You know, in the old days, back home, they'd cut a man's skin off for having a tattoo he didn't earn. Now everyone and his woman's got one.”

“Wait, you've been to prison? _Real_ prison?” Ethan queried, after a too-lengthy pause. Another stupid question.

Sacha laughed.

“What? What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Sacha said, stretching and scrubbing a hand over his face. “Nothing, it's just... I like the way you look at me like I'm some kind of fucking alien. You've never been around someone like me before, have you? I'm the first.”

Ethan didn't answer and Sacha said, “Yeah, well no offense, but you reek of sheltered-little-shit.”

Ethan snorted a laugh -- he could no longer tell what was or was not an appropriate reaction. He took another sip of wine in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“But yeah,” Sacha went on, draining the rest of his glass, “I've been in. A few times. Don't ask me what it's like, though,” he added, before Ethan could do just that, “because a nice boy like you doesn't need to know. You'll never see the inside of a place like that.”

“How do you know?” _You don't even know me_ , Ethan thought.

“I know, you ain't the type. Besides, you wouldn't last the morning, not even in juvie.”

“Why not, because I'm a rich kid?”

“Nah, not because of that. Because you're too pretty, if you want the truth about it. They'd fucking maul you, kid. Eat you alive and spit your bones back out. Seen it happen more than once.”

Ethan paled. He wasn't sure how they'd stumbled onto the topic of prison rape, but he was desperate to change the subject.

Sacha reached for his glass. “You having one?”

“Um, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

He took the time while Sacha was gone to check his phone. There were several missed calls and unopened messages from his sister and mother. He didn't bother opening any; he was sure already that he knew what they'd say. That he had to come back home, that they weren't finished with him, that he was selfish for running out; immature, irresponsible, a terrible son.

Ethan switched the damn thing off and set it down beside him.

“Here.”

Ethan looked up and took the glass from Sacha's outstretched hand , trying for a smile. He wondered, vaguely, whether he should stop doing that, since Sacha never smiled back.

“Thanks.”

Sacha didn't say anything, just sat down with a small bag of white powder, a credit card and a small square mirror in front of him. For once, Ethan didn't need to ask him what he was doing because he knew, had seen it before.

Once he'd arranged the powder into thin, precise lines, Sacha hunched over and huffed up two of them in quick succession.

He sat back, pinching his nose, and said, “You know, I'd offer you one, but--”

“--you don't want me accidentally dropping dead and having the cops trace it back to you,” Ethan finished for him. “Yeah, I know. It's fine.”

Sacha's phone went off and Ethan sipped on his wine while he answered it.

“Fucking great.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Sacha tossed his phone on the table and put his feet up, resting his arm across the back of the couch. Ethan shivered.

“Bunch of dumb college kids, looking for weed. They'll be here soon.”

“Oh.” Ethan wrapped an arm around his stomach, pressed the rim of the glass into his lip as he stared at the side of Sacha's face.

“What?” Sacha grunted, without looking at him. Ethan couldn't tell if he was actually engrossed by what was happening on television or if he'd just completely wiped himself out and was staring into space.

“You were going to tell me about your tattoos, remember?”

Ethan had always assumed Sacha's tattoos were there simply to make him look like a badass – and they did – but now he wondered if he really wanted to know about everything Sacha had ever done in his life to earn them; if it would scare him to know.

But he _did_ want to know. He wanted to know everything if Sacha was prepared to tell him.

“What do you want to ask, kid?”

“What does that one mean?” Ethan gestured to the sailing ship inked into Sacha's upper right arm.

“Wandering. I grew up alone, without my mother,” Sacha replied.

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

Sacha shrugged and lit a cigarette.

“What about the pirate one, and the skull?”

“The first one represents robbery, and the skull... Well, you can probably use your imagination on that.”

No. “ _Murder_?”

Sacha shrugged again.

“Okay,” Ethan said quietly. There was a lengthy silence.

“Are you scared?”

“Of you?” Ethan tried to keep his voice level. “Nope.”

“Still a shit liar,” Sacha snickered. He leaned forward to ash his cigarette. “These,” he went on, gesturing to his closed eyelids, “Mean 'don't wake me up, I'm sleeping.' And these--” He slapped the stars on both his knees-- “mean I won't get down on my knees before anybody, ever. Only for God. The rings on my hands don't mean much, just how many times I've been in.”

Ethan counted four among the other various, seemingly random symbols and pictures tattooed on Sacha's hands.

“Oh. And that cross?”

“A target. Means I know how things are gonna end for someone like me.”

Ethan stared at the Cyrillic symbols tattooed into Sacha's face. Sacha caught him looking and raised a hand to his cheek, said, “My old man did these himself; he was old school. Tch, least he gave me something pretty to remember him by.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” Ethan said, gently. “I didn't know your dad was gone.”

“Nothin' to be sorry for,” Sacha dismissed with a wave. “World's a better place without him in it. He was a drunk, and a mean old prick.” Sacha laughed. “Whenever he was around he'd just... He'd fucking belt me around the head 'til I blacked out. Thought it was pretty funny when the lights went out and I pissed all over myself.”

Ethan leaned forward and, without thinking, put his hand on Sacha's arm, squeezing gently. “Oh my _god_. Sacha, I'm...”

Ethan hadn't ever found himself in a situation quite like this, unable to find words that might come close to providing anything resembling comfort.

“I had a smart mouth on me,” Sacha told him after a while. “Probably deserved it half the time.”

“No. No, you didn't. Nobody deserves that.”

“Maybe I do.” Sacha's gaze dropped to Ethan's hand, still resting on his arm. It wasn't until now that he considered perhaps Sacha might not be happy about being touched. He drew his hand back.

“Sorry.”

“Nah,” Sacha said, like it meant nothing, stubbing out his cigarette in the tray. “You're just a kid. Shouldn't be telling you all this shit.”

“I don't mind,” Ethan protested, in a small voice. “You telling me things, I mean. Sometimes it's good to talk about things, get them off your chest or something.”

Sacha snickered, like Ethan had said something amusing. “That's real sweet.”

There was a light knock at the door, and Sacha got up to answer it. Ethan saw something move out the corner of his eye.

“I think I found your cat,” he murmured, as Sacha walked away.

“Well grab her before she fucks off again,” Sacha instructed over his shoulder.

“Yo,” he said, pulling open the door.

Ethan got up to grab the cat – it had dashed behind the TV unit now – and caught three or four shadowy figures standing against a backdrop of violet sky. It was dark out already; Ethan wondered just how long he'd been here.

“Yeah, come in, then,” he heard Sacha say. He sounded annoyed and nothing like before, when the two of them had been alone. “Take your fucking boots off,” Sacha snapped. “Don't need you trekking shit all through the carpets. You, too, _mu'dak_. Don't look at me like that.”

Ethan leaned over the TV unit, the plywood digging into his stomach, and let out a loud yelp, his hand stinging. A loud hiss then, followed by yellow eyes flashing in the dark.

“What's up, kid?” Sacha was behind him now, hovering, close enough that Ethan could feel the heat of Sacha's bare chest against his back.

“No, it's nothing,” Ethan muttered, standing back and wiping his hands on his jeans. “She scratched me, that's all. She's terrified. I don't think she wants to come out just yet; she's not ready.”

He spun around and bumped into Sacha's chest. Sacha looked down at him with a frown and said, “No shit. And these dickheads aren't helping. Go make yourself useful,” Sacha said, jerking his head to the right, “while I get rid of this pack of cunts.” Ethan winced at that word, and could have sworn Sacha smirked at his reaction.

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Ethan wanted to move, put some space between them, but Sacha was blocking the way. If he inched even one step forward his nose would be pressed right up against Sacha's chest, and while that didn't seem like such an awful prospect to him, he didn't think Sacha would appreciate a surprise cuddle.

“Go into my room and get my scales,” Sacha ordered, gesturing over to the hallway. Ethan nodded and ducked under Sacha's arm.

“And don't get lost,” Sacha called out behind him.

 

It was cold in Sacha's room. Ethan blinked, trying to adjust to the lack of light while he fumbled around for the switch. When he found it, he glanced quickly around the cramped, untidy-looking space, searching for something resembling scales. He wasn't even sure what they were supposed to look like.

He started across the room, stumbling over a sealed-up cardboard box and steadying himself on the edge of Sacha's double-bed. Ethan couldn't help but notice it was unmade and so, without thinking, he grabbed the edge of the coverlet and dragged it to the top.

Something dropped to the floor as he was straightening out the pillows and Ethan glanced down. A pair of black lacy underwear had fallen at his feet. Ethan scowled and kicked them out of the way.

“Bet they don't look like your mom's.”

Ethan let out a noise of surprise and whirled around. Sacha was standing in the doorway, leaning on one arm against the frame. Ethan's gaze slid over Sacha's body before he forced himself to look back up at his face. He wished Sacha would put a shirt on sometimes.

“Or maybe they do,” Sacha added with a smirk, and Ethan glanced down at the underwear on the floor, putting two and two together.

“Don't,” he muttered before he could think. “Don't talk about my mom like that.”

Sacha gave him an odd look. “Thought I told you not to get lost.”

“I wasn't, I was just--”

“Doing some spring cleaning?” Sacha raised an eyebrow, glancing over his now-made bed.

Ethan flushed. “Oh, yeah, I'm sorry about that, I'm just kind of... weird about mess.” He wasn't, really. He must have been out of his mind thinking it was a good idea to touch Sacha's bed without his permission.

Sacha crossed the room and picked something up off the bedside drawer. He thrust it at Ethan's chest. “You're looking for these.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Come on.”

Ethan followed Sacha back out the the living room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was sitting on the couch. Two unfamiliar faces, and one he'd never expected to see here in a million years.

They spoke in unison.

“ _Aaron_?”

“Ethan?”

Ethan glanced sideways at Sacha, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing here?” Aaron asked, standing. He was blushing, looking like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ethan repeated. His mind was racing, already privately testing out various excuses to tell his parents, his sister, when Aaron inevitably ratted him out to them all.

“He's my new assistant,” was Sacha's smart-assed reply to Aaron, as Ethan set the scales down on the table. “Sit the fuck down.”

Aaron sat immediately, and the atmosphere in the room was now palpably tense. Ethan was of the impression all three of these boys, including Aaron, were afraid of Sacha and wanted to get out of here the second this transaction was concluded. Ethan didn't blame them – he'd known Sacha months and he still made him nervous.

Sacha emptied some weed onto the scales before dropping a few buds into a clear plastic bag. He threw it at one of Aaron's friends, who caught it, just, while Aaron appeared to be undergoing great pains not to make any more eye contact with Ethan.

All three boys stood and Aaron dug around in pocket, pulling out some cash and placing it carefully on the table. It was only when Sacha had ordered them all to get the fuck out of his house that Aaron paused by the door and said, in a weak voice, “Ethan, can I talk to you for a minute? Outside? Please?” He was sweating nervously.

“No. He can stay.” Sacha was wiping the table down now, not looking at either of them, but his jaw was set and he looked distinctly unimpressed. Ethan hoped he hadn't done anything to make Sacha mad at him.

It was Aaron's fault anyway for making things awkward, for being so uncool.

“What is it?” he snapped, as Aaron hung by the door like an idiot.

Again, they both spoke at once.

“Don't tell my parents about this--”

"--I swear, if you even think about ratting me out I'm going to--”

“Oh.” Ethan closed his mouth. Of course. He hadn't thought about the fact that Aaron wouldn't be able to say anything at all about being here unless he wanted to land himself right in the shit too.

“I won't say anything if you don't,” Ethan declared. He hoped that would be enough, that Aaron would turn around and get out of here now, stop ruining this for him, stop embarrassing him in front of Sacha. It wasn't as if he needed any assistance there, had been doing just fine on his own.

“Tch. Fucking rich kids,” he heard Sacha mutter, and Ethan cringed.

“Sounds like a deal,” Aaron agreed. He turned to leave before apparently remembering something else he needed to say. “Oh, and Ethan--”

“What?” Ethan snapped.

“I was just really sorry to hear about your mom, that's all. How is she feeling?”

For a moment, Ethan couldn't even speak. He wanted to leap across the room and strangle Aaron for bringing this up in front of Sacha, when he'd made every effort to keep things separate.

“Fine,” he gritted. “As well as you'd expect, anyway.”

Aaron nodded. “Well give her our regards, won't you? I know my mom's always thinking about her, and you and Laura. I'll see you round, Ethan.”

The door slammed shut, and the silence now was heavy.

“Come here.” Ethan let out a yelp as Sacha pulled him back down to the couch by his wrist. He landed on his ass.

Gripping Ethan's wrist tightly between his thumb and index finger, he lifted it up into the light to examine the scratch. “You should go clean that. That cat's been out roaming the streets for fuck knows how long; probably fucking filthy, diseased or something.”

“Um, sure.” Ethan got up to do as he was told, but Sacha wouldn't let go of him.

“What?”

“What was he talking about? What's wrong with your mom?”

“Nothing.” Ethan yanked his wrist away, breathing hard. Sacha had a firm grip, whether he meant to or not. Ethan wondered if he'd bruise. “Don't worry about it.”

“Is that why you're over here so much – 'cause she's sick?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Shit.” Sacha laughed, and Ethan shot him a dark look. “No, it's just...” Sacha sighed. “I didn't know. Sorry about what I said before. You know, in there--” He jerked his head in the direction of his bedroom, “--about your mom and the... You know.”

“Forget it. Listen, I should probably get going. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Wait.” Sacha's arm barred him from getting back up. “Who's the douchebag with the shitty haircut?”

“Aaron?”

“Whatever. The one with the fucked-up eye.”

“Yeah, that's Aaron. He was in a car accident when he was little. He's kind of a family friend.”

Ethan vaguely remembered his parents taking him to the hospital to visit Aaron and his little sister shortly after the accident. He remembered laughing at the patch over Aaron's eye and asking him if he was a pirate. Aaron had asked him to stop being so annoying and to get lost. Things had never really changed between them, not counting a few stiff, awkward encounters at large family get-togethers.

“Tch. Kinda just assumed someone like me had gouged it out with a screwdriver.”

“What? Jesus, Sacha, no.”

“I don't like him,” Sacha added after a while. He'd lit a smoke and was examining his hands. Ethan watched him.

“How come?”

Sacha shrugged and picked at his fingernails. “He looks like a cop-caller.”

Ethan had never heard that phrase before but instantly knew what Sacha meant and privately agreed. Aaron totally looked like a cop-caller.

“Yeah well I don't know him that well. We don't see each other that much.”

The front door rattled and burst open a few seconds later. It was Anna, and Ethan's mind jumped immediately to the underwear in Sacha's room. This was his cue to leave.

“I'll see you later,” he said to Sacha. “Thanks for everything.” Before Sacha could say a word in reply, Ethan had his jacket on and was shuffling past Anna to the door.

“Oh, hey, Ethan,” she said brightly. “Nice to see you again.” She was so nice, it felt awful to hate her.

“Yeah, you too,” he said with a forced smile, balancing on one leg as he pulled his boots on.

“You're leaving already?”

“Yeah, I've gotta get home or my mom will have a fit.” Ethan dragged his gloves up over his fingers.

“Wait, you're not walking, are you?”

“Leave him alone,” Sacha muttered.

Ethan looked at him briefly before glancing away. “Um, it's fine, someone's picking me up,” he lied. “See you round.” He drew his hood up over his hair and dashed out into the bitter cold, trying not to think too hard on what Sacha had told him about his body ending up in a ditch somewhere.

* * *

That night when his message tone went off, Ethan's eyes flew open in the dark. He'd fallen asleep with his father's work phone stuffed underneath his pillow, feeling sick, praying Sacha would answer his message.

Because like an idiot, he'd left his phone on the couch back at Sacha's place and once he'd realized his mistake, it had been all-out panic and fury at himself for failing to arm it with a password. Sacha could go all through his photos now, his messages, if he wanted to. Ethan prayed to god he didn't, that somewhere there was some sense of decency in him.

He unlocked the screen with a pounding heart.

**_What was all that before? I didn't ask you to go._ **

Ethan frowned. He'd expected a message back confirming that he'd left his phone and that he could come pick it up, or worst case scenario, a series of paragraphs making fun of him for the contents of his text messages and photo gallery.

 _ **Sorry. I didn't realize I needed your permission to leave.**_ Ethan regretted sending it the moment after. He was being rude and sarcastic and hoped Sacha didn't read too much into it. His after-weed headache, his unfair jealousy of Anna, the situation with the phone, or Aaron popping up and sticking his big nose where it didn't belong -- it had him on edge and it wasn't Sacha's fault.

 ** _I was kidding_** , Ethan sent, hoping to fix it. _**Sorry. Was I rude? I thought I said goodbye.**_

_**You did.** _

_**Good. Aaron kind of freaked me out. My parents wouldn't understand.** _

_**You hanging out with me? Smart. Forget about him. He's not going to say shit.** _

_**How do you know?** _

_**Because I'll fuck the rest of his face up if he does.** _

_**Cat must be missing you. She's sitting in your spot.** _

Ethan flushed at the idea of having a 'spot' anywhere in Sacha's house.

_**Really?! She came out? And I don't think so. Maybe she's just missing the taste of my blood.** _

_**She came out just now.** _

_**She must be getting used to you. I don't think she likes me.** _

_**Maybe she's dumb then.** _

Ethan smiled. He wondered how someone so prickly could be so almost-charming at the same time.

_**I should come by tomorrow to get my phone. I know I left it at yours.** _

_**It's here. Come get it.** _

_**I can't. It's almost 3am.** _

_**Sorry. I forgot you're twelve and can't drive.** _

_**I'm not twelve.** _

A few minutes passed, and Ethan began to think Sacha wasn't going to reply.

_**I'm done for the night. I'll drop it over.** _

_**But it's 3am**_ , Ethan reminded him, terrified and elated all at once.

 _ **Can't sleep anyway.**_ Ethan wasn't exactly surprised, given how many substances Sacha was using.

_**I can't leave the house. Everyone's mad at me already. If I get caught, I won't be allowed out anymore.** _

_**Wuss.** _

Ethan sat up in bed, worrying at his lip.

_**Fine. Should I wait for you?** _

_**Be outside in ten. Don't get caught.** _

 

It was freezing outside. Shivering, Ethan kept glancing back up the house, just to make sure no lights were on, that no one was about to charge out and bust him for sneaking out like this.

He tucked his gloved fingers beneath his underarms, buried his chin in his scarf. The street was eerily silent and deserted. Ethan hoped no one was out for a late-night/early-morning stroll; the neighbors were notoriously nosy, and this was the kind of street where everybody dobbed on everybody else's kids.

He shuddered to think how his mother would feel if she were to find out he was out here in the snow, about to meet up with someone like Sacha. He felt certain he was the worst, most ungrateful and disrespectful son on the planet.

He let out a sigh of relief when Sacha's headlights appeared in the distance. When Sacha pulled up at the curb, he leaned over to unlock the passenger side-door and Ethan hurried to climb inside the cab.

“Hey.”

“Your lips are blue.”

“Oh.” Ethan touched a finger to his lips and couldn't feel them. Sacha leaned forward and turned the heater up.

“Wait, where are we going? I thought you were just going to give me back my phone,” Ethan asked, when Sacha pulled away from the curb and started off up the street.

“We can't talk?”

Ethan's heart thudded so violently he wondered if Sacha could hear it, could tell how nervous he was.

“Um, sure, we can talk,” Ethan assured him, even if he had no clue what Sacha could possibly have to talk to him about. “Where are we going?” he asked again, in a small voice.

Sacha shrugged. He was dressed like he'd been somewhere nice – a white-collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tie that had been pulled loose, so that it hung around his neck. But something not-so-nice had clearly taken place in the time since they'd last seen one another. Sacha's knuckles were scraped and bruised, and there was a small smear of blood at the bottom of his shirt.

Ethan wondered where he'd been, what he'd done, before he noticed the half-empty bottle of whiskey between his legs.

“You shouldn't drink and drive, Sacha,” Ethan warned, speaking without thinking. He couldn't help but realize how much he sounded like his mother and quickly wished he hadn't opened his mouth.

“Okay, Mom.”

Ethan pressed his lips together and twisted his fingers in his lap, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. Thoughts of Sacha's car, wrapped around a tree – their bloodied bodies trapped in the mangled, fiery wreckage – flashed across Ethan's mind and he wondered when he'd become so reckless. If he was ever caught, his own stupidity would kill his mother before her illness did.

Sacha glanced at him and laughed. “What? I've only had a bit.”

“It's okay,” Ethan said quietly, even though it wasn't. “I'm sorry I said anything.” It was too late now to do anything about it other than sit it out and hope Sacha took him home sooner rather than later.

Sacha pulled up outside the local abandoned church and put the car into park, leaving the engine on. He couldn't have driven them to a more deserted part of a town if he'd tried. There wasn't a soul in sight apart from him, Sacha, the church and the tangles of ivy it was choking on.

Ethan felt awkward now, unsure if he should speak first.

After a few seconds, he decided on: “What happened to you tonight?”

“Nothin'.” Sacha unscrewed the cap on the whiskey bottle and took a short swig. The sour smell of it filled the car.

“Really? Because you kind of look like you got into a fight or something.” _And you smell like a bar_ , he thought but didn't say.

“Yeah, or something.”

“Wow, what happened?”

“Tch.” Sacha let out a short laugh. “Don't think you'd wanna sit next to me if you knew.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you're good, and I'm not.”

Ethan was sure now that Sacha was drunk, or high, or more likely a combination of the two.

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” Sacha replaced the bottle cap and dug around in his pocket. He tossed Ethan's phone into his lap.

“Oh. Thanks.” Ethan snatched it up and held it close to his chest. He studied Sacha's face for a moment, hoping to find some evidence there that he'd gone through his phone and seen something embarrassing. It was impossible to tell.

“Your phone wouldn't shut the fuck up before. I nearly smashed it.”

“Oh?”

“That one-eyed wanker's been blowing it up.”

“What?”

Ethan swiped across the screen and glanced over his messages. There were several there from Aaron, and they'd clearly been read.

“So what's he lodged up your asshole for?” If Sacha had read the messages, Ethan was sure he already knew.

He shut the screen off. “I don't know. I think he's just worried I'm going to dob him in to his mom or something. I'm not, though,” he hurried to add, “he just thinks I will because that's probably something he'd do.” Ethan rolled his eyes. “I think he's going to try to come over tomorrow or something, like, to _talk_. He's making a big deal out of nothing, I wish he'd just let it go.”

“I can talk to him.”

“It's fine, I'll get rid of him. Shouldn't be too hard.” He was afraid Sacha wasn't using the word 'talk' in quite the conventional sense. Ethan wasn't Aaron's biggest fan by any stretch of the imagination but the last thing he needed right now was to end up in a situation where he was forced to explain to his mother why his new, much-older friend had beaten Aaron up for no good reason.

Part of him wanted to feel like Sacha even offering meant that he cared, no matter how certain he was that Sacha had decided he didn't like Aaron just _because_ and it had nothing to do with Ethan.

“Thanks for bringing my phone back.” Ethan wondered if Sacha would take him home now.

Sacha didn't say anything for a long time. He stared out the windscreen, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, like he was thinking hard about something. Ethan waited for him to speak, to say anything. When he didn't, Ethan blurted, “Can I turn the radio on?”

Sacha let his hand fall to the dash, switching on the stereo for him. “Oh, I like this song,” Ethan commented brightly, turning the volume dial up a little. He'd heard his sister playing it from her bedroom sometimes and had even memorized parts of the lyrics. He wondered if Sacha was even listening.

“Are you alright, Sacha?” The longer the silence stretched on, the more concerned and uneasy Ethan grew. He wondered how much Sacha had really drunk over the course of the evening – and early hours of the morning-- and if they'd end up stuck here now because Sacha was too wiped-out to take him home. He shuddered at the thought of calling his sister to come pick him up. There was simply no way to explain his way out of this one.

“Stop worrying about me,” Sacha muttered. He unscrewed the bottle cap again and Ethan very briefly considered taking it away from him before deciding that was a horrible, and possibly dangerous, idea.

Sacha took a short swig and offered the bottle to Ethan, who accepted it after a short pause. Maybe if he drank a little, Ethan reasoned, and held on to the bottle, then Sacha wouldn't be able to drink any more.

“Are you gonna drink or not?”

Without thinking about it, Ethan wiped the rim of the bottle on his sleeve.

Sacha snorted. “I'm not diseased. Fuck.”

“What? No, I didn't think you were, it's just... habit.”

“Princess.”

Ethan shot him a look and lifted the bottle to his lips. Sacha watched him drink. It burned terribly on its way down and for a moment Ethan thought he might be sick.

“Keep it down.”

Ethan coughed into his sleeve. “Trying.”

Sacha gestured for him to take another and Ethan cringed, but did it. The second was easier than the first, but only just. He coughed again and Sacha snickered.

“Delicate.”

“Quit making fun of me,” Ethan grumbled, half-heartedly.

The liquor hit him fast. He felt warm again, and his cheeks were burning, but without the addition of marijuana he felt slightly more in-control than he had earlier.

“I want to ask you something.”

“Oh? Go ahead.” Ethan gripped the bottle between his legs.

“I've never seen you high.”

“Huh?”

“I know I got you high last night, at my house. But that was the first time, right?”

“I'm not sure what you're getting at,” Ethan admitted.

“What were you really doing with all that shit I was giving you? 'Cause I know you ain't the pill-popping type.”

“Right,” Ethan answered, nodding, “because you've got me all figured out, huh?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“You don't know me."

“Tch. I think I know a junkie when I see one, and you ain't it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lose the sass. What were you doing with it?”

For the first time since they'd met, Ethan didn't really want to be around Sacha anymore.

“I told you. It was for me, and sometimes a friend.”

“Yeah, and you lied.”

“So now you can always tell when people are lying? Wow, Sacha, that's an unusual skill. You should look into a career with Homeland Security.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” Ethan burst out. He was getting mad now, and his mouth really was getting him into trouble. He wanted to shut up, desperately, but the combination of hard liquor and Sacha getting all up in his face, digging for answers he didn't want to give, was proving too much to bear.

Sacha glared at him and Ethan folded his arms.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone but I need to go. I'll walk home.”

“In your cute – panda? -- slippers?” Sacha taunted, with a quick downwards glance at Ethan's feet. “Sure.”

“I'll manage.” Ethan thrust the whiskey bottle back at Sacha's chest and made to get out of the vehicle. Sacha stopped him with an arm across his chest, pinning Ethan back to his seat.

“You're not leaving.”

“You can't stop me,” Ethan returned, trying to sound brave and faltering. For the first time since they'd known one another, Ethan found himself seriously entertaining the possibility that Sacha might actually hurt him if he pushed him too far.

Perhaps naively he'd never been legitimately afraid Sacha would harm him before, despite having a fairly good idea about the things he did to get what he had, the things he was capable of doing. But then Sacha had never directed his anger at Ethan, exerted his will on him like this and so completely. He was helpless.

“Can't I?”

Sacha was right. He was tall and powerfully-built and probably knew a thousand different ways to get somebody to do what he wanted. And if he wanted something from Ethan, he'd get it without a fight and there was nothing Ethan could do about it.

The only thing to do now was to play along.

"Fine. What do you want from me? I don't understand why you even care what I do with what you gave to me. What's it to you? I bought it. It's mine.”

“I asked you a question. I want you to answer it.”

“Fine.” Ethan inhaled an uneven breath. “It's my mom, alright?”

“Your _mom_?”

“No, it's not like that,” Ethan said quickly, already aware of what Sacha was thinking. “She didn't ask me to or anything like that. It's just, the stuff they're giving to her – the meds – they're not enough to...”

“To what?”

Ethan took a deep breath and it all came spilling out. “She said something to me once. She told me she was scared, that she didn't want to die in agony, not being able to do anything for herself. She said she didn't want us to see her like that, that it'd be humiliating, that she felt like all her dignity was being taken away from her. And I... I didn't want to see her like that, either. She's my _mom_.”

Sacha studied him intently.

Ethan wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “So,” he said thickly, “I looked for ways to help her. I researched what she needed and I found a way to get it.”

“You found me.”

“Right. I asked around and someone told me you'd have what I was looking for.”

“Who?”

“It doesn't matter.” The last thing Ethan wanted was to get anyone else into trouble on his behalf.

“I've been saving them up,” he went on. “You know, just in case. In case she ever needs them. She doesn't know. I'm just... I've been waiting. For the right time. And it isn't the right time yet, but I think it's getting close.”

Sacha blew out a long breath. “Fuck.”

“I told you what you wanted to hear. Can you let me go now?”

“Hey.” Sacha lifted his arm away from Ethan's chest and put it around his shoulders instead, pulling Ethan into his body. “You know I wasn't gonna hurt you, right? I just wanted you to talk to me. The day I met you I knew something was off about you. You're not like the others.” Ethan figured he meant like the other kids around town he sold weed, and pills, to.

Ethan wasn't sure what Sacha was doing, only that he'd never picked Sacha for the cuddly comforting type, even if the rational side of him argued it was probably only because Sacha was wasted and pitied him.

The parking brake dug awkwardly into Ethan's side. His neck was bent at an odd angle and beginning to ache but none of it mattered because Sacha was touching him, holding him like maybe he cared, and Ethan was sure sweat had never smelled any good on anybody else.

“Sorry.” It sounded awkward when Sacha said it, like it wasn't a word he had to reach for often.

Ethan closed his eyes and listened to Sacha's chest.

“About your mom, I mean. That's fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Ethan whispered. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a while, before Sacha said, “Well come on.” He let Ethan go and cleared his throat. “I'll take you home.”

“Wait – are you sure you're alright to drive?” Ethan put his hand on Sacha's arm. “Really?”

“Do you see anybody else here?”

“It's just, you're kind of--”

“We'll live.” Ethan held his tongue as Sacha put the car into drive and pulled out into the street.

 

“So maybe I'll see you round, kid,” Sacha said, when they pulled up outside Ethan's house.

Ethan glanced up at his house; all the lights were still out, which he hoped meant he was safe from getting busted, at least for tonight.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ethan had a gut-feeling that after tonight they wouldn't be seeing each other so much.

He avoided looking at Sacha as he got out of the car. He shut the door, and didn't turn back to watch as Sacha drove away.

* * *

  _Four months later_

* * *

“We don't have to stay long,” Maia said. She put her hand on Ethan's shoulder once they reached the porch. “I'll take you home if you want me to.” For a moment, Ethan seriously considered taking her up on her offer.

“It's fine. I need to get out, I know I do. Even if it's just for ten minutes.” He patted Maia's hand and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

A guy Ethan didn't recognize opened it. He smiled when he saw Maia and ushered them both inside, ignoring Ethan. “You want to come get a drink with me?” he proposed, putting an arm around Maia's shoulders and steering her around.

“Do you mind?” Maia asked, looking back at Ethan. “Why don't you go find a place to sit, I'll grab you one too.”

“Sure, you go ahead” Ethan told her, forcing a smile. He didn't want to be left alone, but also didn't want to ruin Maia's night. These were her friends, and he wanted her to have a good time without him. She'd wasted enough time and energy and tears on him over the past few months; Ethan knew he'd never be able to repay her for any of it.

The music inside was deafening, and the house was packed, stinking like beer and cigarettes and sweat. It had been a while since he'd exposed himself to a social situation like this, and he was as anxious as he'd expected to be.

Muttering apologies, Ethan pushed his way through the small crowd blocking the foyer and squeezed himself into the living room to see if he could find a spot for them to sit. He found himself pressed against a wall as a bunch of tall boys carrying a keg rushed past him noisily, shirtless and covered in what looked like sharpie drawings.

He spotted Aaron across the room and raised a hand to wave when their eyes met. Aaron gestured to him that he was coming over and Ethan nodded, smiling with relief as Aaron pushed his way across the room.

“Hey!” Aaron shouted, over the pounding music.

“Hey!” Ethan yelled back, covering one of his ears with his hands. It would be impossible to have a conversation in here.

Aaron took him by the elbow and steered him to the corner of the room, leaning in to speak in his ear.

“How are you?”

“Fine. Good,” Ethan said at the side of Aaron's face.

“Are you with someone?” Aaron asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Ethan shouted back. He pointed towards the kitchen. “Maia's here.”

“Good. Do you want a drink?” Aaron asked, offering his beer. On any other occasion Ethan might have refused out of politeness, but not tonight. He knew he was going to need all the drinks he could get.

“Thanks,” he said, quickly accepting Aaron's offer. He leaned forward to give him a clumsy, one-armed hug and Aaron was noticeably pinker when Ethan drew away.

“Forget it,” Aaron said, and Ethan could tell he'd made him uncomfortable. A few months back and he didn't think the two of them would ever be standing here, having such a friendly interaction, but Aaron had been unexpectedly kind to him in the months following Ethan's mother's death. Ethan would never forget it.

“Bathroom,” Aaron yelled, pointing over to the hallway. “I'll see you in a bit, yeah?”

Ethan agreed, even as he regretted being left alone without another familiar face in sight, and watched as Aaron dashed away. He pushed himself back into the wall, hoping to go unnoticed, when he spotted someone else – the last person he'd expected to see here – and his heart sank like a lead balloon.

Sacha was here. Ethan found him across the room, occupying one of the couches. He was busy pulling hard from a bong, a small crowd hanging all around him, probably looking to get something from him. Immediately, Ethan began plotting a way to escape before Sacha noticed his presence. He wanted to see him, desperately, but couldn't face it; didn't have it in him to explain, not now after so many months of silence.

It was then he saw Anna, who also spotted him. She started towards him, and Ethan knew then it was too late to run away. He tried not to look crestfallen.

“Hi,” he called out to her, as she stopped in front of him. She didn't answer him or smile back, or even say anything at all, just folded her arms and looked him up and down like he'd spat in her face.

She turned around after a few seconds and started back towards the foyer, leaving Ethan with the same feeling he got when he fell asleep halfway through a movie and woke up somewhere near the end, trying to figure out what he'd missed.

Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps Sacha had said something awful about him, but he couldn't even begin to understand why anyone would do that, or what he could possibly have done to either of them to deserve it.

Unable to let it go, Ethan gripped his beer tight, trying not to spill it, and followed her out to the foyer, hurrying to catch up with her. When he did, he placed a hand on her shoulder and she spun around, looking mad. Ethan recoiled.

“What do you want?” she snapped, and Ethan was so thrown for a moment he was lost for words. She didn't at all resemble the girl he'd met all those months ago – cheerful, friendly, kind.

“Um. I'm sorry,” Ethan began in a small voice, “but have I done something wrong?” Hurt bubbled up inside him, even if he knew it didn't really matter whether Anna liked him or not. Already he was afraid he was about to do something stupid, like cry.

Anna folded her arms again and huffed out a breath. “I don't know, Ethan,” she answered coolly, which cancelled-out Ethan's second theory that perhaps she just didn't remember him. “You tell me.”

Again, Ethan had the feeling he'd wandered into some alternate reality where everybody knew something he didn't.

He shook his head. “I really don't understand what you're talking about. Did someone say something about me?” What he really wanted to ask was whether or not _Sacha_ had said something about him, but something told him he shouldn't bring him up.

“No, they didn't have to.” Her eyes were glassy and slightly bloodshot. Ethan figured she must have been drinking all night.

“I'm really confused,” he admitted.

“That makes two of us.”

“What is it you think I've done?”

Anna couldn't look at him, and appeared to be about to walk away. “Look, if you really don't know what I'm getting at, then--”

“I don't!” Ethan burst out. He waited for her to spit it out, whatever it was.

“It's Sacha,” she said finally, and Ethan's heart gave a painful lurch.

“What about him?”

Anna looked at him like she was trying to figure him out, discern whether or not he could be trusted, or was telling her the truth.

“Did he say something bad about me?” Ethan didn't want it to be true, didn't think he could bear it if it was, but he needed to know.

Anna let out a short laugh and shook her head. “No, Ethan.” There was a long pause, and then it all came tumbling out: “Maybe he's obsessed with you, and that's really fucked up. If you really don't-- Look, you should just keep away from him, okay? He's weird about you and it's creeping me out.”

Ethan was floored. “I honestly have no idea what's happening right now.”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us. Maybe you should ask him, and when you get an answer you can let me know. Ask him why he's always stalking you on Facebook, or repeating things you said to him fucking months ago. Ask him why he's always sulking, or angry, or acting like a fucking douchebag because I'd really love to know.”

Ethan needed to sit down. He bit his nails and tried to breathe. “We haven't... I haven't seen him in months, though.”

“I know,” Anna said. “I know that.”

“But then--”

“Look,” she interrupted, holding up a hand to cut him off, “I'm going to ask you something now and I want – Ethan, please, I _need_ – for you to tell me the truth. I won't even be mad, I know it wouldn't be your fault if it happened.”

“I have no idea what's going on right now, but okay, yes, ask me. Just spit it out, please.”

“Did he... God,” Anna breathed, like it hurt to talk. She scrubbed a hand over her face and tried again. “Did something happen?”

“What?”

“Did something _happen_?”

“Huh? I'm not following. Did something happen like what?”

“For fuck's sake, Ethan, how are you not getting what I'm saying?” she yelled, throwing up her hands.

“Because I don't know what you're talking about!” He tried to calm down, didn't want to yell, but this was getting serious fast and he needed to know where Maia was, needed her to come save him from this and take him back home. He hadn't left the house tonight for this.

“Fine. I'll be clearer, then, if that's what you want. Did you sleep with him?”

Ethan felt like she'd slapped him. “What? No!” It was the last thing he'd expected to come out of her mouth. A cold sense of unreality gripped him and he felt dizzy.

“Okay, well did he try it on you?”

“No! Never! Why would you even think that? Jesus, Anna, he never laid a hand on me,” he hissed low, hoping none of the many people standing around happened to be listening in on this. “ _Never_. Not like that.”

Anna stared at him intensely for a few moments and let out a long breath when she appeared to have decided he was telling her the truth. “Okay,” she said, digging her fingertips into her temples. “Okay, I'm sorry, I just... I had a weird feeling about it, and he's been acting like such a loser lately. Like, I don't know, he fucked you, and you dumped him. I know that sounds insane – _believe_ me – but he's turning me into an actual crazy person. I feel like some paranoid, jealous freak whenever I'm around him lately.”

Ethan felt seriously uncomfortable hearing such an intensely private update on the status of Sacha's and Anna's relationship. He wanted it to go away and, privately, wondered if Anna really was crazy and had made all of this up.

“I'm really embarrassed,” Anna went on. “I can't believe I thought he-- I mean, with _you_. It's not like I don't know that he cheats on me all the time with other girls, but I know – at least I think I know -- he wouldn't do something like that _._ He's not a pervert.” She was rambling, and Ethan wondered if she knew he was still there.

“He's just... I don't know, it's me, not him. _I'm_ the crazy one. You should go talk to him, Ethan. He thinks about you. I think he really cared, you know, about what you told him. About your mom. He lost his mom when he was young, too. God, I can't believe I'm about to say this – about Sacha – but I think... I think you hurt his _feelings_ when you stopped coming by. He really liked you. He even kept that evil cat because you told him not to kill it.”

“His feelings?” Ethan repeated out loud.

Anna laughed. “Yeah, I know. How stupid does that sound? I never even knew he had them because he's usually such a piece of work. What even happened between you?”

“What? Nothing. Why, does he think something happened?” Ethan's heart was racing.

Anna shrugged. “He just said he acted up around you one night and you stopped talking to him.”

“Really? That's not what happened. I didn't mean for him to think anything like that, it's just... I was going through a lot and I didn't want to bother him, that's all.”

“Tell him that.”

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and Ethan, assuming it was Maia, spun around. The blood drained away from his face when he looked up at Sacha and he swallowed his words. Sacha smirked and grabbed the bottle of beer out of his hand without asking, taking a sip from it.

“Thought I saw you out there. You look like a ghost.”

“Don't expect to get any sense out of him, Ethan,” Anna muttered from behind them. “He's high as a fucking kite.”

Sacha laughed then and reached for her, pulling her into him by the arm. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered something Ethan couldn't hear. She jerked back and went to slap his face, but Sacha caught her wrist before it landed.

Furious, she pulled away from him and said to Ethan, “See? You were right to stay away from him, this guy's an asshole. Asshole!” she shouted, pointing, so that everyone around heard and stared at them.

She stormed away, cursing loudly, and Ethan wanted to sink into the ground.

“What did you say to her?” he asked in a small voice. Sacha was still standing there, staring after her.

“Nothin' that isn't true.”

Ethan couldn't hear himself think, which he thought was probably a good thing as he didn't want to think, not about anything Anna had said to him about Sacha. He couldn't begin to imagine how to ask him about any of it.

It was time for him to go.

Sacha pulled gently at his arm before he could take a step forward.

“Want to go outside for a bit? Stinks like shit in here.”

Ethan couldn't look him in the eye. “I probably shouldn't. I'm here with someone.”

Sacha let him go and snorted, “Who, that fucking pirate?”

“No, my friend Maia."

“Whats with him, anyway?” Sacha looked right through him as he sipped absently on Ethan's beer.

“Who, Aaron?”

“Yeah, that one. Why's he putting his hands all over you?”

Ethan thought this was an extremely odd thing to ask, but answered, “He's kind of a friend now. I don't know, he was just saying hello.” Again, he wondered where Maia was and if she'd lost him.

“Don't go yet. I wanna talk to you,” Sacha said, and Ethan continued to stare at his feet, a dull roar pounding in his ears.

Sacha grabbed his wrist and led him through the foyer, over to the stairs. He left the beer on a side-table and Ethan asked, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet,” Sacha muttered as he took to the stairs, dragging Ethan along behind him. “Can't fucking hear myself think in here.”

Ethan tried not to panic as Sacha led him down a hallway and into a stranger's bedroom. When Sacha flicked on the light, Ethan noticed immediately that the bed was already occupied by a half-naked girl and boy, about Aaron's age or older, who were rolling around on top of the bedsheets.

 “What the fuck, man?” the boy demanded, squinting to see who'd interrupted them. The girl had rolled off the bed now and was fumbling to put her clothes back on. Ethan felt so awful for her that he wanted to apologize for the pair of them, try to drag Sacha away, but then Sacha said, “Get out. Go on, get the fuck out,” and the boy must have either recognized him or otherwise been sufficiently intimidated by how menacing he looked because he scooped up his clothes, hurriedly put them on, and rushed himself and his girlfriend past them and out the door without another word.

“Sacha,” Ethan began, uneasy, as Sacha shut and locked the door behind him. It wasn't even that he was afraid Sacha meant to hurt him, but he didn't want him to lock the door. Nobody knew where he was, and the things Anna had said to him downstairs had him feeling like there was something Sacha hadn't told him, something he might not need to know.

“What? They can fuck somewhere else. The backyard's a good a place as any.” Sacha went over to the bed and switched the beside light on before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Ethan watched him stare at the photos on the bedside table – pictures of kids and a middle-aged couple on vacation – and frowned when Sacha turned them face-down.

Ethan hung by the door, too nervous to will himself to cross the room and sit down next to Sacha.

“You can sit,” Sacha said, reading his mind, diving into his jacket pocket to retrieve a crumpled pack of smokes and a lighter. “Not gonna bite your head off, fuck.” He lit a smoke and Ethan cringed, slowly shuffling across the room to sit down next to him on the bed, ensuring a decent amount of space remained between them.

“Maybe you shouldn't smoke in here,” Ethan reminded him quietly. “Whoever owns this house, this is probably their parents' room. You're going to get them into a lot of trouble.”

“Tch. If they're throwing a party like this while their folks are out they've probably got it coming.” Ethan didn't know how to argue with this.

Sacha leaned forward to ash his smoke on an upside-down picture frame and Ethan cringed but mustered enough courage to ask, “Why are we here?”

Sacha didn't answer for a while. He blew a thick cloud of smoke at the ceiling and then said, “Why didn't you ever come back?”

Ethan frowned and shifted uneasily where he sat. “I don't know,” he answered truthfully. And then, thinking about what Anna had said, added, “You didn't do anything, though. I was just going through a lot and I knew I probably shouldn't have been hanging out with you. I needed to be with my mom, my family.”

“I get that,” Sacha said. He leaned forward, forearms resting against his thighs, and said, “I heard about your mom. That's pretty fucked up, kid.” Ethan recalled then what Anna had said about Sacha 'stalking' his Facebook page.

“Yeah. It's been a little while, though. I'm dealing with it.”

“Good.”

“It's good seeing you, though,” Ethan told him, and it was true. He thought about Sacha often, thought about sending him a message from time to time but it never felt right, like too much time had passed and he'd be overstepping his bounds.

“You had my number.”

“I know.”

“I messaged you once. You didn't answer.” Sacha looked tired, spaced-out. Which wasn't unsual but Ethan still wondered how he'd been, what had been going on with him and if he was alright.

“You did? I'm sorry, I can't even remember. Honestly, there's a whole bunch I can't remember, it's kind of a blur. I think I turned my phone off for weeks and when I turned it back on again I just couldn't face any of the messages people were sending me. I'm sorry, though. I didn't know. What did you send to me?”

“Nothin' important.” Sacha shrugged, then coughed. He stubbed his cigarette out on the picture frame. “Thought maybe you'd want to hang out again.”

“I did,” Ethan answered gently. “I did, I just couldn't. I couldn't be around anyone, and... not you. I did some messed up things then. I _was_ messed up for even thinking about doing what I did. And then my mom died and after a while I wasn't even sure you still wanted me around. It always kind of seemed like I was just some stupid kid to you.”

He thought then about Anna telling him he'd hurt Sacha's feelings. Swallowing hard, he added, “But I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Sacha said, and then, “Never thought you were stupid, though. Thought I told you I liked you.”

“Yeah. You did.” Ethan wanted to go to Sacha now, touch him or even hold his hand but he wouldn't because it wasn't appropriate and no matter how Sacha took it, it would be wrong due to the way Ethan felt about him. Still felt about him.

“I want to ask you something.”

Ethan was instantly on-edge. It was the second time he'd heard that line tonight and the first time hadn't gone so well.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“If I ask and I'm wrong, you know where the door is. Run. If I'm not, you stay and tell me the truth.”

“Um, okay.” Ethan had an awful feeling about this but figured there wasn't much left to lose.

Sacha didn't look at him. He scratched absently at his jaw. “Was I out of my fuckin' mind thinking you were hot for me?”

The silence fell thick.

Once it was out there and there was nothing left to fear, it was far easier to respond, to come out and finally speak the truth.

“No,” Ethan said faintly. “You weren't wrong. And I'm sorry,” he went on in a whisper, staring at his hands shaking in his lap, “for making it so obvious. I didn't mean to make it obvious – I never wanted you to know – but it must have been or else you wouldn't. Know, I mean. Jesus.”

He took Sacha's silence for cold disapproval and hurried on, “I never meant to ruin everything like this. You don't even know how sorry I am, and I know you can't be around me now.”

“You don't know what I think.”

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked, desperately. He still couldn't meet Sacha's eyes.

“Maybe you made me want to think about it.” Ethan was stunned into panicked silence, and Sacha hung his head. “And it's not like I ever would've – not in a million fucking years – but when you'd look at me that way, like I knew what you were thinking, what you wanted, maybe it made me want to try something, too. And what does that make me? Tch. Some fuckin' pervert.” He spat on the carpet.

“No. No, you're not,” Ethan protested. _“_ You wouldn't hurt me. You never did.” He felt so terrible about it all – for bringing this into Sacha's life, for making him feel this way – that he wanted to cry. “It's my fault. It's my fault for being like this. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. Still want to. That's just as fucked.”

“But you wouldn't, and that's--”

“Wouldn't I? I already thought about it. What's the difference?”

Ethan knew there was a difference, but maybe it didn't seem that way to Sacha, who thought of things as either black or white.

Finally, he said, “Because if you touched me, we'd both get into trouble. I'd never want to get you into trouble.”

“Wouldn't be the first fuckin' time.”

“Yeah, it would. You haven't been in trouble like that, it's different.” Ethan knew Sacha of all people understood what he meant.

“I wish we could just forget about it,” Ethan went on, his breath catching as he started to cry. He knew that wasn't possible. Words like these could never be unsaid. “It was just a stupid crush. I never wanted you to know about it. I never wanted to make you feel this way.”

“That's all it is? So how many guys you got stupid crushes on, then?”

“None! It was only you. And what else could it even be?” Ethan demanded.

“Something,” Sacha answered. He slid across the bed, over next to Ethan, and put his hand on Ethan's thigh, leaning in to press his nose to Ethan's cheek. “It could be something.”

Ethan closed his eyes, froze, didn't push back or try to argue when Sacha kissed him on the mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and stale beer and Ethan had never imagined for a moment that anything like this could ever really happen. He tried to remember that it was something he wanted, something he'd daydreamed about endlessly and not something Sacha was forcing on him.

Sacha's thumb pressed into Ethan's jaw, keeping his head in place. His lips were slow and gentle, which Ethan had never fantasized he was capable of being, and he tried to keep up, move his mouth in a way that wasn't awkward or terrible for Sacha.

“Look at me.”

Ethan opened his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're terrified. I can feel you shaking,” Sacha murmured against his lips.

“I'm sorry,” Ethan whispered back. “I'll try to stop.”

“No.” Sacha pulled away and was still for a moment before he stood abruptly, pacing back and forth on the carpet with his hands behind his head.

“You should be scared. Go, find your friend,” Sacha said with his back to him.

“Wait, you're just going to leave?” Ethan was terrified now he'd done something wrong, hadn't met any of Sacha's expectations and now Sacha was going to leave angry at him.

“Yeah, I'm gonna leave. 'Cause if I don't I'm gonna end up doing something I regret and you won't be able to stop me. So you stay. I'll go.”

“Sacha, don't do that, I'm sorry--” Sacha ignored Ethan's pleas and went for the door without looking back.

And even as Ethan wanted him to stay, stay so that he might find something to say to fix what had happened, he knew that he couldn't – and shouldn't – try to stop him.

Ethan put his head in his hands and listened to the sound of the lock rattle and slide out of place, the door slam shut as Sacha left him alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Weirdest thing I've ever written. Many apologies.
> 
> References:
> 
> \- [Alix Lambert's 'The Mark of Cain'](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0288114/), a 2001 documentary about Russian prison tattoos and the meaning behind them. 
> 
> \- Terrible jokes courtesy of [Reddit. ](https://www.reddit.com/r/DirtyJokes/comments/4hbq2k/what_do_a_burnt_pizza_a_frozen_beer_and_a/)
> 
> \- [This post](http://lunarscape.tumblr.com/post/150478457854/thatdiabolicalfeminist-kids-who-sought-out), in case my personal thoughts and feelings on this situation are in any way unclear.


End file.
